published in Postimees, 31 July 2022

I like being a Hungarian in Estonia. Two and a half years after having moved here, I’ve always felt welcome. Estonians not only appreciate my efforts to learn their language and culture, but they often welcome me as vennasrahvas. Many, especially in the older generation, tend to have fond associations and a sometimes startling amount of knowledge about Hungary, and almost everybody has sporadic memories of Hungarian history from their textbooks. Which is very flattering. Yes, I am from the nation of authentic gulyás, horse riders, freedom fighters and Kapten Tenkeš, and yes, in my language gumimatrac means kummimadrats.

However, another thing that keeps coming up when my nationality is brought to light is politics. Estonians generally lack the condescending tone that most Westerners and Americans would have in the matter, but still they do ask: what happened to Hungary? What’s going on there and why?

I appreciate the genuine concern of Estonians, which is somewhat unique to the world. It is the concern of a distant relative, towards someone like an eccentric uncle they might have even used to look up to. Now the eccentric uncle seems to have succumbed into an embittered, paranoid, conspiracy theory-binging internet troll that is awkward to be around. Just a few days ago (23.07.2022), Viktor Orbán in his annual speech in Tusványos, Transylvania, made points about racial purity, the sin of mixing races and the decay of the West that would make even Varro Vooglaid blush. (update: he did not blush.)

So really, what happened to Hungary?

This is a story that I’d like to tell in the future, as this is a much longer story than the one of Orbán and his reign. 

I believe current Estonia is what Hungary could have, and should have become after 1989. After regaining independence, it went straight West. It didn’t try to be “exceptional” or “mediate” between the Eastern and Western world, nor did it go down the pretentious path of “neutrality”. It invested in the social sphere, such as education and healthcare, the results of which are clearly showing today. It most definitely doesn’t revel in some kind of lost glory, nor does it believe the world owes it some kind of justice, which would have been a terrible trap to fall into. One of the things I most appreciate in Estonian society is its forward-thinkingness. Estonians feel responsible for their country and are not waiting around for somebody else to save them.

In contrast we, Hungarians, the people of hot paprika and freedom fighters, have always felt a massive amount of hubris. This sentiment of lost grandeur and being wronged by other nations prevented us from transforming into a democratic society in those early days of freedom, which resulted by missed chances, neglected social sphere and rampant corruption. But more was lost than money: Hungarians lost their faith in democracy. This, added to the exceptionality complex, was perfect soil for Orbán’s regime to thrive on, and by tapping into our worst traits, he managed to sicken Hungarian society into their current, mildly fascist state. Even those who resist the system. No matter how one tries to shield themselves from the regine, the surrounding society will inevitably affect them.

Recently I got interviewed by an MA student at Skytte Institute researching how people’s political thinking changed after their move to Estonia. During this conversation did I realize what fundamentally changed now that I see the world from a 1000 km distance further up North. I’m not the person I was when I moved here.

First, I became much less exposed to Russian propaganda. By the time I left the country, I hadn’t been consuming Hungarian state media for a decade, which is now pouring unfiltered Russian propaganda on its citizens. (They call the Russian advancement in Donbas as “liberation” unironically, and quote separatist leaders as “experts”, to just name a few examples.) Yet, even the remaining independent media seems to be confused about what Russia is and does. Hungarians don’t understand Russia the way the Baltics or Poland does, and are hesitant to use the harsh language it deserves. As a researcher of Finno-Ugric peoples in Russia who has seen one or two things there, and heard one or two stories, I am almost certain that back home I would have lost my mind in frustration. I am humbled and grateful to live in a country that is not afraid to call a dog a dog, and continues to do so in international platforms.

Second, I re-learned how to be a citizen and mend my relationship with politics.

I often hear Estonians complaining about their politicians. Reform is too dominating, Isamaa multiplies by division, Kesk is inconsistent, SDE is snowflaky, EKRE says outrageous things. (My favorite has to be homoteerull.) Yes, Estonian politics can be frustrating and complicated, but what people tend to forget is that politics is meant to be frustrating and complicated. That’s much better than simple and straight. However annoying one’s unfavoured party is and however dumb their voters seem, Estonian politics still mainly revolves around actual issues in current reality. Whether it is about Russian-speaking schools, nuclear plants or where to put the new Südalinna Keskus in Tartu, these issues are openly debated, in conversation with the citizens.

This is not the case in Hungary. In Hungary, decisions are made long before they are presented to the public. The only thing they do is wrap the decision into some makeshift ideology (usually along the lines of “protecting” the citizens from whoever they declare enemy). If it’s a hard sell, they can always blame Soros. There is no public debate. Nobody has a say. There are no coalitions and barely any consequences of mismanagement or corruption. For a politician to resign, they have to be caught naked and high on drugs, hanging from a drainage pipe escaping a homosexual orgy in Brussels in the middle of the pandemic. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, google József Szájer.) In Hungary, politics are simple and straight and it feels like a prison.

Democracy is a fragile thing. It doesn’t come by itself when a dictatorship ends. It first has to be learned, and then constantly cultivated, even when it feels like a burden. No democracy is bulletproof, and one of its best poisons is the hubris of believing “it can never happen here”. I’ve been listening to that lie for 12 years and it always happened. Hungary’s story is not unique and unrepeatable: all that needs to happen is to lose faith in democracy, and someone interested in playing king will surely show up.

I didn’t move to Estonia because of the economic prospects, e-residency, startup culture or Nordic comfort. I moved here because I wanted to live in a healthy society, interested and invested in its own well-being. To live somewhere, where, as my mother put it when she first visited me, you can smell the freedom in the air.